Hiding My Heart Away
by GloriaNewt
Summary: Adele- based songfic. When Imogen departs for the Summer holidays after the two women having fallen in love, Constance is missing her more than she could ever have imagined...


**Authors Note: **

**Hello again, another day, another attempt at a songfic! Feeling more than a little tired/ill, so hope this comes off as intended! I was listening to Adele's Hiding my Heart Away earlier on and suddenly had a little brainwave for this fic- hope you enjoy!**

**Reviews always make my day!**

**xxx**

**This is how the story went****  
><strong>**I met someone by accident****  
><strong>**who blew me away****  
><strong>**blew me away**

A broomstick was drifting steadily across the dawning summer sky, the golden light of the morning highlighting the glistening blonde threads in the hair of the woman sat on the front of the broom, clinging tightly to the alien contraption, the knuckles on her tanned hands glaring a bright white under the tightness of her unrelenting grip, not daring to look at the ground in fear of plummeting to her death. Instead, she nestled comfortably back into the caring embrace of the tall, statuesque witch seated immaculately behind her, her loose ebony hair billowing behind her in a dark cloud as the breeze rippled through her flowing, glossy locks of hair, freed for once from the restrictive constraints of her tight bun. The older woman leaned into her protectively, the warmth of her body against the chill of the altitude eliciting a faint quiver from the blonde-haired woman as she stared back into the chocolaty eyes that were twinkling with warmth at the sight of the shivering woman, a faint sparkle of amusement present at the other woman's determined resolution not to admit how cold she was for not having thought to have worn a coat or cloak.

"I did warn you..." she whispered into the soft ear in front of her, chuckling softly at the look of indignation that flittered briefly across Imogen's face as she allowed an obstinate pout to appear momentarily upon her lips.

"You didn't say how cold these wretched things would be!" she muttered grumpily, still slightly groggy with sleep from the absurdly early hour that they had departed from Cackle's Academy.

Constance said nothing but placed a gentle kiss upon the exposed nape of the neck of the woman in front of her, the slight brush of lips on skin warming Imogen up more effectively than any cloak could have ever dreamed of doing, smiling gently in her sleepy haze up at the witch who until a few short weeks ago had been nothing but the frigid, unyielding deputy headmistress Miss Hardbroom.

"Not long now," whispered Constance as she expertly guided the broomstick above the miles of sprawling countryside that was being bathed in the early morning light, a beautiful spectacle that appeared to have been created especially for them, the only two beings stirring in the entire world at that point.

******And It was in the darkest of my days****  
><strong>**When you took my sorrow and you took my pain****  
><strong>**And buried them away, you buried them away**

"How quickly life can change…" thought Constance to herself as she shifted course to follow the shimmering path of the winding river that twisted through the countryside below her like a giant serpent carving through the green of the fields.

A few short weeks ago, that fateful day that had announced the proposed Of-Witch inspection, the dreaded document that heralded the ominous arrival of her feared mentor, Hecketty Broomhead, a tidal wave of supressed memories rising up from their watery graves, threatening to drown her beneath their oppressive weight, gasping for air as she sank into the wooden chair, her worst nightmare beginning to replay all over again.

Despite her frequent dismissals, persistently assuring her concerned fellow members of staff that she was perfectly alright, inside she was in turmoil, cracks beginning to spread across the icy façade, a crumbling wreck at the slightest thought of hearing those clipped tones echoing inside her aching head once more, she had always been an open target for the bitter, poisonous mental manipulations that Mistress Broomhead was so adept at delivering, unsure that she would ever escape from the demonic clutches of the sadistic witch, the woman who had made her what she was, taught her everything that she knew, bullied, tormented and pushed her to near breaking point in the pursuit of complete magical perfection. Nothing else would do.

The night before the visit, she had sat slumped over her wooden desk in the staffroom, her head in her trembling hands as tears that had waited over a decade to be shed trailed silently down her icy face as violent sobs wracked her slender form, desperate with blind panic at the impossible situation with that she was faced.

From out of nowhere, a pair of toned, slender arms had wordlessly wrapped themselves around her hunched shoulders, a fearless embrace from an unseen presence, comforting her and filling her with strength and resolve, thanking her lucky stars that she hadn't lashed out with her magic and wounded the only person who had managed to wordlessly persist and break down her constructed barriers, any icy disdain long forgotten as she clung onto the single, fraying thread of support that was being offered by her invisible stranger, a comfortingly familiar rock to cling to as she turned in her seat and stared into the liquid green eyes of her saviour, the beautiful eyes that held her trembling gaze, returned with just the faintest flicker of desire. Soon she was pouring her heart out to those irresistible eyes, unable to exercise her usual iron control over her mind, her awakening, damaged heart for once ruling her level, sensible head.

****

**I wish I could lay down beside you****  
><strong>**When the day is done****  
><strong>**And wake up to your face against the morning sun****  
><strong>**But like everything I've ever known****  
><strong>**you'll disappear one day****  
><strong>**So I'll spend my whole life hiding my heart away****  
><strong> 

Imogen had been the voice of calm and reason that had kept her on a relatively even keel during the long-dreaded visit, never leaving her side, never allowing Hecketty a moment alone with Constance, saying nothing but supplying a caring glance, a faint squeeze of her hand beneath the staffroom table as they sat through the icy danger of mealtimes with Hecketty, the inevitable tension mounting between the two women as they finally began to concede to what their hearts were screaming at them. In the moments of elation after the dreaded Hecketty had left, Constance had lightly traced a slender finger beneath the firm jaw of her staunch ally, looking deep into the bottomless depths of those stunning eyes that belonged to the woman who had tirelessly stood by her side, unable to fight with magic, but her mere presence being enough to transmit a protective layer, a human shield to the venom of Broomhead, the antidote to her oppressive powers, the ray of sunshine in Constance's bleak existence, all thoughts of reason abandoned as Constance leant forward and softly placed a gentle kiss upon the velvety lips of the woman in front of her. A shocked gasp from Imogen had caused Constance to pull away in fear, her heart fluttering as the familiar feeling of rejection reared its ugly head within her once more. But as she turned to walk away, tears of shame and humiliation at being seen at her most vulnerable burning freshly in her hazel eyes, a pair of lips met with hers urgently, words no longer enough to express Imogen's feelings, the mutual gesture of reciprocation sealed with a passionate kiss in the silent hallways of the castle, fantasy becoming reality in once beautiful motion, tanned skin against porcelain, blonde against ebony, the two women stood in a shared embrace, relief binding them together for an eternity, relief at the lightening of the oppressive atmosphere carried by Mistress Broomhead, but predominantly relief at the airing and acceptance of feelings that had strained to be unleashed for far longer than was healthy.

******Dropped you off at the train station****  
><strong>**Put a kiss on top of your head****  
><strong>**And watched you wave****  
><strong>**And watched you wave**

Constance pulled the broom into a gentle nosedive, careful to avoid jolting the sleeping form of her lover who was curled comfortably into her, an arm draped protectively around her slender waist as they descended gently onto the deserted platform of the nearest station, devoid of life apart from a few fallen leaves that were skittering lazily in the faint breeze, the electronic departure board stuttering into life as the automated voice of the announcer cut sharply through the stillness of the dawn, jolting Imogen rudely awake as the flat monotone proceeded to announce the imminent arrival of the first train in fifteen minutes precisely.

"Case," muttered Constance as she pointed her slender casting fingers at the platform, causing a slightly battered brown leather suitcase to shimmer into existence, "Ticket," she continued, a brisk incantation muttered beneath her breath was enough for a familiar orange and white ticket to appear in Imogen's outstretched hand.

"I don't have to-" began Imogen weakly, staring back at Constance, knowing that the many weeks separation was going to cause her a lot of pain, simply being in the presence of the mighty witch was what kept her feeling alive, fuelled solely by the torturously sweet agony of the strength of her love that made her heart flutter and ache at the very sight of the majestic woman.

"Go," prompted Constance, "You promised her... she needs you more than me at the moment…"

"But-"

Constance abruptly silenced any protest from Imogen by leaning forward and kissing her gently, placing a willowy finger across her lips to stem the flow of words.

"No," she chided gently, pushing her own needs firmly to the back of her sensible mind, "Your mother needs you and you know that, you're all she's got since your dad has passed on a few years ago and she needs you now," she embraced the younger woman as the train pulled wearily into the station to claim its sole passenger, "Take care Imogen, I'll see you soon, I promise.."

Imogen nodded, a faint flush of guilt spreading slowly across her cheeks at how selfish she was appearing to be, but the intoxicating presence of the witch was pulling her strongly back towards her, unable to stay away from her magical aura. Steeling herself, she bundled her suitcase roughly into the carriage and climbed aboard the awaiting train, waving as it pulled away, not looking away from the ever distant speck of the woman that she loved until the train rounded a corner and she was out of sight. She sank dejectedly into the window seat and stared dismally at the blurred scenery that was whisking past her vision in a multi-coloured haze of fuzzy, distorted shapes.

******Then I went on home to my skyscrapers****  
><strong>**Neon lights and waiting papers****  
><strong>**That I call home****  
><strong>**I call that home****  
><strong> 

Constance attempted to allow a smile to spread across her delicate features as the tall towers of Overblow Castle came into view upon the distant horizon, floating sedately amongst the fluffy white clouds that had formed upon the startlingly blue, azure skies of the summer day. She smiled softly as the building that she had learned to call home grew larger in her sights, knowing that although she would be alone, Davina having departed to Mongolia once more, and Amelia was holidaying with her cousin, she would be at peace with herself, used to her own company, she usually spent the summer holidays in a blissful state of research and marking, a golden routine for procuring knowledge, fuelling her intense curiosity into the workings of the upper echelons of the mystical arts, using the opportunity to carry out some of the more hazardous magical experiments that she was sure that the caring headmistress Amelia Cackle would be far from amused to see carried out upon her premises, staying resolutely alone until September in the idyllic stillness of the castle, unaccompanied save for her faithful cat, Morgana.

******I wish I could lay down beside you****  
><strong>**When the day is done****  
><strong>**And wake up to your face against the morning sun****  
><strong>**But like everything I've ever known****  
><strong>**You'll disappear one day****  
><strong>**So I'll spend my whole life hiding my heart away****  
><strong>**Away, yeah**

All she ever dreamt of was Imogen. The distant figure waving from the train as she disappeared around the corner, the whispered "I love you," as she had boarded the train, the look of sad despair as she had departed, many scenes and images dancing incessantly behind her darting eyes as she slept fitfully in her large, purple-quilted bed, a bed that felt uncomfortably large for a single occupant, hoping within her most desperate of dreams to wake up to see the tousled blonde spikes of her love on the pillow next to her, her chest rising and falling slightly as she slept. Instead, all that confronted her was the bleak sight of the grey stone wall, the inanimate bricks almost mocking her in their lack of emotional display, teasing the previous Ice Maiden who abhorred extended personal contact of any sort as to her sudden, unexpected change of heart.

"Be careful," she told herself hopelessly, knowing her heart already in Imogen's possession to do with what she wanted, "Just don't get hurt…. not like before…"

Previous attempts at love had left Constance so scarred physically and mentally that she had decreed that she would never love again, frantically pushing away those who could help, those who understood, deciding that it was far easier to have never loved than to have loved and lost. She had been so determined to face life upon her own, shutting out anyone who made the slightest advance, those who persisted usually ending up as an amphibian for some considerable length of time. So what was it about the little blonde that had sparked this alien feeling of passion within her?

She rolled over in bed, staring at the hairline cracks in the ceiling, surprised to note that cool, salty tears were rolling slowly, unchecked down her gaunt face, little tributaries of torment and loss, streams of agony diverted from the main seas of her heart that was screaming, almost audibly in pain for the presence of the woman that it could not have.

******Woke up feeling heavy hearted****  
><strong>**I'm going back to where I started****  
><strong>**The morning rain****  
><strong>**The morning rain****  
><strong>**And though I wish that you were here****  
><strong>**on that same old road that brought me here****  
><strong>**It's calling me home****  
><strong>**It's calling me home**

It was strange, not hearing her laughter, seeing her beautiful face; she was feeling a strange emptiness in her willowy arms where she should have been holding Imogen. Unable even to concentrate upon her beloved books, Constance sat at the glassless window in her lofty turret, staring out unblinkingly upon the surrounding forest, watching the light mist of raindrops clouding over the delicate spider web that had been painstakingly constructed upon her windowpane, little diamond drops of dew glistening perfectly in the cold light of the morning, the midsummer rain pattering gently upon the leaves of the trees in a steady, rhythmic ostinato, water cascading over the waxy leaves, the faint pitter-patter becoming natures accompaniment to Constance's lonely thoughts as she thought of nothing but the woman that she missed with all her heart, finally given the opportunity to love, yet the object of her desires could not feel further away than if she had travelled to the other side of the universe.****

**I wish I could lay down beside you****  
><strong>**When the day is done****  
><strong>**And wake ****up to****your****face against the morning sun****  
><strong>**But like everything I've ever known****  
><strong>**You'll disappear one day****  
><strong>**So I'll spend my whole life hiding my heart away**

The weeks past and Constance's life crept by in a listless blur, unable to focus her love-struck mind upon the simplest of magical tasks, she continued to brood and mull over the absence of the PE teacher, straining her excellent hearing to hear the slightest of faint footsteps upon the uneven flagstones, the sure signal that company would have returned to the deserted wilderness- even Mrs Tapioca and Frank Blossom had jetted off to Italy for a memorable summer in the hills, but the days past and she heard nothing apart from the breathless scurrying of the countless mice that inhabited the castle. Alone again, she had never appreciated the joy of companionship until Imogen had arrived in her tragic life, being brave enough to life the dark veil of self-imposed exile from her hazel eyes, letting the pure light of optimism and love shine blindingly into the shadows of her heart, and now, ironically the removal of the supportive crutch of loneliness was in turn killing her slowly, the isolation that she had previously cherished now suffocating her in its desperate mire of solitude, leaving her frantically counting down the days until the return of her lover, the only act of control over her dizzying emotions that she could cling onto, she knew that she needed Imogen more than she ever had before.

******I can't spend my whole life hiding my heart away**


End file.
